


Bear My Mark Upon Your Soul

by nightflyer42



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Abigail is Will's sister here, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Blood and Gore, Hannibal eats people, M/M, Mild Gore, Not sure if cannibalism is the accurate term in this case, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Shapeshifting, Slow Burn, Starvation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-23
Updated: 2017-02-26
Packaged: 2018-09-19 11:17:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9437912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightflyer42/pseuds/nightflyer42
Summary: To save his village from starvation, Will makes a deal with the god of Raven's Wood.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My attempt at a fantasy AU for #HannibalOddysey. Unbeta'ed, English is not my native language, excuses, excuses... I apologize for any mistakes, feel free to point them out.

Winter seemed to last forever. It was longer and crueler than anything Will remembered; even the older people spoke in hushed tones that they had seen no such thing. Everyone stayed in their little houses, huddled together under piles of fur for warmth, eating through their dwindling winter supplies. Will was a good hunter and they had started off with plenty of dried meat; his sister tended to their little garden all summer, preserving what she could. It should have lasted them through the cold months; after all, they were used to fending for themselves since their parents passed away. Still, winter refused to relinquish its hold and the food was almost gone; there were no animals left in the forest. When Will ventured out with his bow and knife, the woods looked dead and white, with no signs of life in sight. Still, he looked until his flesh felt frozen through and then trudged back to the village, preparing for the sight of Abigail's face growing more gaunt, her eyes larger and more sunken in. The other families weren’t faring too well either; when people started dying, Will was truly afraid for the first time since their parents died. He had preserved several dry pieces of meat and slipped them to Abby, but his little stash was almost gone and winter seemed endless.

***

There was a knock on the door. Will was awake, but stayed under the furs, holding Abby to keep her warm and to preserve his own energy. He didn’t feel like getting up, but the knocking resumed, more insistent. Finally Will stood up with a groan and went to unlatch the door. A figure wrapped in a heavy cloak almost ran him through, dashing towards the fireplace.

“Finally, I thought my balls were going to freeze out there! You took your time, Will.”

Will shut the door with a sigh, “Matt, what are you doing here?”

His friend unwrapped the cloak to show the bow in his hand.

“I wanted to ask you if you wanted to go hunting.”

Will sat down heavily and shook his head.

“There is no point, Matt. There is nothing in the forest, you know that.”

Matt lifted his eyes and set his shoulders straight before blurting out, “I’m going to the Raven’s Wood.”

Will’s eyes widened in disbelief and a chill shivered down his spine. He grabbed Matt and shook him.

“You can’t go there! You know very well it’s not allowed!”

“So what will happen if I go? I am sick of old wives’ tales keeping us hungry! There are deer in the Wood, and rabbits! We could last until spring! Look at Abby, do you think she will last much longer?”

Will glanced at his sleeping sister, worrying his lip. Maybe Matt was right, but it was deeply ingrained in him since he was a young child that the Raven’s Wood belonged to the old gods and killing any of the animals there was strictly forbidden. It was said that only the pure of heart could go into the Wood and come back. Sometimes, young children wandered there and they were always returned. His own sister had chased after a rabbit and disappeared one day. His mother had been frantic. Will had been almost ready to head to the Wood himself in search of her, when Abby appeared , clutching a bouquet of wild flowers and telling tales of a feathered stag who found her crying and lost and carried her back to the edge of the Wood.

Will wasn’t sure if he believed her tale, she had been only five and always with a vivid imagination. Still, he knew that killing in the Wood was forbidden.

“Matt, I can’t. They may be old wives’ tales or not. I can’t risk it, who will care for Abby if I get killed?”

Matt frowned and grabbed his bow, wrapping himself in the cloak again.

“Well, if you don’t want to, I will go alone. I am sick of obeying there stupid rules.”

Will struggled with a sudden feeling of foreboding; something terrible was going to happen. At the door he grasped at Matt’s shoulder and tried to hold him back.

“Please, don’t go. We just have to hold on a little longer and spring will come.”

Mat shook off his hand and glared at him.

“You are a coward, Graham, but I’m not scared. When I bring back meat, I will come by and give you some, because of Abby. Then maybe you will see there is nothing to be afraid of and you will come with me next time.”

Before Will could try and reason with him, Matt was gone, his steps muffled by the snow.

Will paced across the small room, restless and worried. Hating the enforced idleness, he grabbed his hunting gear and cleaned his knives, oiled any leather cracked from the cold. Still, he couldn’t keep his mind on the task and often stared off into the fire, wondering how Matt was faring.

“Will?” a small voice croaked from the nest of furs. Will immediately dashed to his sister’s side, smiling at her sleepy eyes and disheveled hair.

“I’m here, Abby. You slept for a long time.”

“I’m just so tired,” she whispered, and Will had to fight the tightness in his throat at the realization how frail she had become.

“Stay in bed, then. Here, eat this,” he fished one of the last pieces of meat from his bag. She grabbed it, stuffing it in her mouth and chewing fiercely as a wild animal. Will petted her hair and smiled, “Slow down, Abby, or your belly will hurt.”

She swallowed and looked at him under her lashes with guilt, “Sorry, I'm just so hungry! You should eat something as well.”

Will shook his head, ignoring the twisting in his own stomach. “No, Abby, you need it more. Don’t worry about me.”

Abby sat up, gathering the furs around her shoulders to keep warm.

“Was Matt here before or did I dream it? Did you have a fight?”

Will considered lying to her for a moment, but decided against it. She was not a little child anymore and she had known Matt all her life. “He was here, yes, and we had a fight. He… he wanted to go hunting in the Raven’s Wood.”

Abby’s mouth dropped open and her eyes teared up. She clutched frantically at Will’s shirt.

“Will, tell me he didn’t go! Tell me you didn’t let him!”

“Abby, how could I stop him? You know how he is when he makes up his mind!” Guilt gnawed at his heart, but he knew he couldn’t take a chance and leave Abby to fend for herself.

Abby shook her head and tears rolled down her hollowed cheeks.

“ _He_  will kill him; you should not have let him go!”

“Who will kill him?”

“The stag,” she whispered. “I know nobody believed me back then, and I was very little, some memories are blurry. But I remember him.” She got a faraway look, staring over Will’s shoulder. “He found me, crying and huddled under a tree, because I lost the way and I thought the wolves were going to eat me. I was afraid of him at first, but then he spoke in my head.”

Will lifted his eyebrows, “He spoke to you? You never said that before.”

Abby smiled through her tears, “I knew that nobody was going to believe me anyway. I don’t know if you believe me  _now_. He called me “little bird”; he brought a whole family of rabbits to play with me until I was calm and happy. Then he let me climb on his back and brought me home.”

Will’s rational mind struggled with the idea. The general, amorphous belief in the old gods was one thing; a feathered stag who spoke in people’s heads was something else altogether. Still, Abby could have imagined it; for Matt’s sake he hoped so. Even if she hadn’t, a god who brought little lost girls home did not seem so scary and dangerous, and he told her as much.

“He seems nice then. Why would he kill Matt?”

Abby’s eyes sobered quickly and she shook her head sadly.

“I was just a lost child, he doesn’t hurt children. A man with murder in his heart is something else. Nobody is allowed to kill in the Wood. Let’s just hope Matt lost his nerve.”

Just then, a piercing scream tore through the silent village. Will shot up and staggered towards the door, grabbing his cloak and going for his bow.

“Will!” Abby’s sharp voice stopped him in his tracks. She was sitting up, eyes burning in the dim light of the fire. “Don’t take any weapons, they won’t work either way.”

Will hesitated for a moment and obeyed, hurrying through the snow towards the field which separated the outskirts of the village from the Raven’s Wood. Other people had opened their doors but none of them seemed eager to go see what had happened. His eyes sought Matt’s cabin; his mother was standing at the threshold, mouth trembling, clutching the door with white-knuckled hands. She met his eyes and lowered her face with a sob.

“I told him not to go…”

Will didn’t have any words for her; he just nodded and continued on. When he reached the edge of the village, he slowed his step but did not stop, approaching the Wood. For a moment, he thought a tree was moving, but then his heart stuttered in his chest and he mouthed, “Matt!” in anguish and awe.

A giant stag, taller than any man, was slowly approaching from the forest. His hide was jet black, as well as the feathers sprouting from his legs and back. His eyes shone crimson, too terrifying to behold, and on his huge antlers there was a mounted body, blood dripping sluggishly down the beast’s fur. Will didn’t need to look closer to know it was Matt.

The stag continued his slow, relentless approach, but Will didn’t move. He stood his ground, tears rolling down his cheeks and freezing in their tracks until the stag stopped right in front of him. The beast lowered his head and deposited Matt’s mangled body at Will’s feet. Those burning eyes held his and Will shivered at the otherworldly, fierce intelligence in them. His knees buckled and he closed his eyes; there was no doubt he was in the presence of one of the old gods.

“ _The Wood is mine. I hope this is a suitable reminder_.” Will gasped as the words formed directly in his mind, the voice deceptively soft. He trembled, recalling his sister’s story, but he could not remain silent.

“We have no food and we are dying!”

The stag tilted his head and looked down at the sad remains at their feet.

“ _Eat what is left of this one, then_.” Abruptly, the beast turned around and walked away. Halfway across the field, the retreating figure shimmered and where the stag had stood before, a huge raven took flight, cawing once and disappearing towards the Wood. Will stared in amazement, wondering if it had happened at all, or his brain has finally succumbed to malnutrition. He shuddered and forced himself to look down at Matt’s body. He was run through with the sharp points of the antlers, but there was a bigger hole where his heart was supposed to be; it was missing. Will thought of the stag’s suggestion and shivered. They had to burn Matt, because if they started eating the dead, it was only a question of time until they started eating the living.

***

Will mourned his friend’s violent death; sometimes he awoke gasping in the night, drenched in sweat, his dreams full of blood, black feathers and burning eyes. Then one day, Abby wouldn’t wake up.

 Will shook her lightly and her head lolled; panicking, he sought her heartbeat; he felt it, sluggish and barely there, but she was alive. Will closed his eyes and let the tears flow down his cheeks as he held her. The meat in his little bag was gone; they were all going to die anyway. He could at least try. Will grabbed his knife and made sure to wrap the furs tightly around Abby. Then he held his head high and marched towards the Raven’s Wood.

When he walked through the tree line, his entire skin buzzed, as if he had passed some invisible barrier. On the other side, it seemed warmer, less quiet. There were animal tracks everywhere; as Will took his bearings, a couple of rabbits hopped amongst the trees, but Will did not try to chase them. Instead, he walked on; he had not come to hunt, he had come to beg for help.

As he proceeded deeper and deeper between the trees, there were more and more signs of life. Several birds fluttered above his head, a fox dashed across the path and even a couple of does lifted their heads to follow his passage with their eyes. Will felt like he was being tested; he did not lift his hand to touch the knife. Finally he reached a small clearing, a stream running through it; it was not frozen, instead it was steaming and smelled strongly of rotten eggs. There, on the edge, stood the stag of his nightmares.

“ _We meet again, little human_ ,” the same calm, measured voice in his head made him jump. “ _You bring a knife, yet you have not tried to hurt anyone. I am curious. Why have you come to my woods_?”

Will kneeled in the snow, lowering his head and laying the knife on the ground.

 “The winter lasts too long and we have no food. Everyone will starve; my sister will starve. My friend came to kill, as he felt it was his right, and he was punished.  I came to beg permission.”

The stag stomped once, his feathers rustling.

 _“So, to save your people, one of my own has to die to feed them, is that what you are asking of me?”_ The voice did not sound angry, just weary. Will felt hot shame and desperation burning in his throat.

 “I will do anything you ask, I will give you anything!”

_“What if I ask your life, little human? Will you give it to me?”_

Will swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded shakily; he had been prepared to offer his life even as he set foot in the Wood.

“I would only ask that you let me bring food back to my sister and the others. Then I will come back and my life will be yours to take.”

The stag looked thoughtful.

_“You speak of your sister. Does she have blue eyes like you?”_

“Yes. She was lost in your forest seven years ago, as a little girl. She said that the feathered stag brought her home safely.”

The creature grumbled, though he sounded glad. _“I remember her. She was a mere child who wanted to play with the rabbits. I do not harm children, they are pure of heart. Those who seek to spill blood are paid in blood.”_

Just then, a small doe entered the clearing. She walked towards the giant stag and lifted her head, as if she was speaking to him. The beast also appeared to be listening. He nodded his antlered head several times and turned around sharply, ordering, “ _Follow me_.”

Will walked in the wake of the stag and the doe. When he got closer, he saw she was not little at all; she was just dwarfed by the sheer bulk of the stag.

They got closer and closer to the tree line and Will began fearing that he was just being escorted home, when the doe stopped. She rooted around with her hoof at a small pile of leaves and snow on the ground and revealed underneath a small crumpled form of a spotted fawn; an arrow protruded between its ribs and it was quite dead, frozen through.

The stag spoke solemnly, “ _This is the reason for your friend’s untimely death. He did not even have the decency to seek an older animal. The mother mourns the loss of her fawn and she does not wish to see more young ones die. She freely offers her life and body and those of her child to feed your sister and the others you care for.”_

Will sputtered, looking down at the pitiful heap and then at the beautiful brown eyes of the doe. She approached him, nuzzling at his belt where the knife was; then she lifted her head and presented her long neck. Will’s knees crumbled, and then he was hugging her, crying into her soft fur and muttering “Thank you, thank you!” The doe licked his face, making him laugh through his tears.

Will took out the knife, hesitating; he finally had what he had come for, but suddenly hurting this noble animal seemed too cruel. Then the stag’s voice rumbled in his mind, “ _This is her wish, little human, to be reunited with her baby in the great beyond. Just be merciful, and remember her.”_ Will gritted his teeth and slashed the knife across the exposed throat, hot blood spraying everywhere. When the doe’s body stopped twitching, he wiped his tears and prepared to carry her and the fawn home. With how few people remained in the village, they would last several weeks with the meat, hopefully until spring.

The stag spoke softly, _“There remains the matter of your debt. I need to know your name. I can take it by force, but I’d rather you tell me yourself.”_

Will forced himself to look up from his task and meet the red eyes of the creature. “My name is Will Graham. I give you my word that I will bring food to my people and I will come back.”

“ _A human’s word is worth nothing to me. Blood is all that matters.”_ With a swift movement, the giant head lowered and sharp pain seared Will’s abdomen. He cried out and clutched at the wound, half-expecting his guts to spill out steaming on the snow. However, his hands found only a shallow gash in his skin. One of the stag’s antlers was dripping red.  He lowered his head again, and Will prepared to be disemboweled properly; instead he felt the creature’s tongue lapping at his blood until it stopped flowing.

The voice rumbled in his mind, _“You taste exquisite, Will Graham, and you are marked as mine now. Go and feed your sister._ _Stay and care for her until she is well. I will call you when the time comes."_

As last time, the stag shimmered and a giant raven was left in his place. The raven circled Will once, brushing his forehead with one black wing and disappeared between the trees. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, all you lovely people who read and left a word or kudos. I am humbled and touched that you liked my little fairy tale. It keeps getting bigger, growing fangs and claws... in a couple of chapters I will have to adjust the tags, because it gets darker, much more than I originally intended, so bear this in mind. I will always list any added tags in the notes and I will do my best to update regularly.  
> You all managed to assuage my insecurities about the English language; still, this is not beta-read and I barely ever manage to notice my typos. Again, if anyone sees anything, tell me and I'll fix it.

Butchering the animals was an easy feat for an experienced hunter like Will. The other villagers stared at him from a distance. He imagined how he must look, dragging the heavy carcasses and depositing them on the square, bathed in blood. The people watched him as if he was something otherworldly, something _else_ that had come back in his shape from the Raven’s Wood. However, hunger was stronger than their fear and they approached him, one by one, taking bloody cuts of meat to bring to their families, murmuring their hushed gratitude. Matt’s mother was last and Will shivered at the quiet resentment in her eyes. She didn’t say anything, but he could feel the question, “ _Why were you spared, and my son was not_?” He did not have an answer which would give her any comfort, so he kept his silence.

He was fearful of what he would find back in his house, but to his relief Abby was sleeping, soft and warm, even the fire had not died down. He felt as if he had spent days in the Raven’s Wood; apparently it was no longer than an hour or two. Carefully, he stoked the fire well and filled the largest pot with snow. Placing it on the fireplace to melt, he set the bloody bones inside to boil. The soup would be easy on Abby’s stomach and she would recover. Hopefully, they would _all_ last the last throes of winter, or his sacrifice would have been for naught.

While he waited, he removed his shirt and made himself look at the wound on his stomach. When he closed his eyes he could still feel the sting of the sharp antler slicing through his skin, the wild, musky scent of the stag, rain and moist earth mingled with iron, and then the soothing warm tongue drinking in his blood.  “ _Exquisite…_ ” Will shivered at the phantom touch. The slash had stopped bleeding, but still he wrapped it in soft linen bandage before putting on a clean shirt.  It wouldn’t do for Abby to wake and see him hurt.

Later, even unconscious she managed to swallow two cups of warm broth and several pieces of meat. Finally she sighed and opened her eyes; Will wanted to weep with joy. She wriggled under the warm furs, trying to get up, but Will pressed gently on her shoulders.

“Stay, baby bird. You gave me quite a scare, lie down now and rest. Everything will be fine.”

Abby relaxed and licked her lips.

“What happened? I… I feel full. Have I slept through the last of winter?”

Will twisted his mouth in a wry smile.

“No. I found food.”

Abby closed her eyes and sighed deeply. When she opened them, the reproach there pinned him in place.

“Tell me you didn’t do anything stupid. Please!” She took his hands and squeezed them harder than he thought she could. Will didn’t answer and she tugged on his fingers, “Will! What did you do, tell me now!”

He stroked her hair, both resenting and admiring her shrewdness.

“I met your feathered stag, Abby.”

“Are you telling me that you met him and lived? And he allowed you to kill something in the Raven’s Wood?” Her voice was rising, weak as she was, and she was struggling to get up again. “Will, _what_ did you give him?”

Will, once again, considered lying. Still, it would not be fair. So he admitted quietly, “Me. I gave him me.”

Abby sobbed and clutched at him, clawing at his shirt and hitting him with her little fists.

“You big, stupid idiot! Why? _Why_ would you do that?”

Will held on to her, until she was exhausted and quietly weeping in his arms. He resolutely swallowed down his own tears; he could not bear her anguish, but he needed to be strong for her.

“I could not let you die, Abby! We were _all_ going to die. So I struck a bargain. One life for many, it did not seem like such a bad deal.”

“ _Your_ life, Will! Blast them all, I care about _your_ life!” Abby’s voice was muffled in his shirt, but at least she had stopped crying. She just sounded tired and resigned.

“It is done now, there is nothing we can do to change it.” Will hooked a finger under her chin and lifted her face, wiping away her tears. He forced himself to smile. “He remembers you, you know?”

She blinked owlishly, surprised, “Really?”

Will slowly told her everything, sparing her only the moment when the stag had slashed his antlers across his belly. She was upset enough as it was, he didn’t want to add to her distress. The wound still pulled, closed, yet raw and sensitive, a constant reminder of the debt hanging over his head. When he was finished, he just sat there, looking at her. He knew that she was hurt, but seeing her awake, her cheeks pink, he could not bring himself to regret his decision. He was only sad that he would not see her grow up.

Abby sat quietly, mulling over his story.

“I didn’t know he could become a raven...” She paused, considering, “He didn’t tell you when to come back? You don’t need to go now?”

Will shook his head.

“Then you sit down and eat something, then go to sleep. I’m still mad at you, but we can talk later. My idiot brother…” she ruffled his curls lovingly, staring at him with sadness and affection, he eyes too wise for her age. Will kissed the crown on her head and went to pour himself some soup. The day had been eventful and he really couldn’t deal with his conflicting emotions anymore. So he ate and slept like the dead, unaware still that in the depths of his dreamland a presence lurked, waiting and observing quietly.

***

In a week the warm winds finally came and the snow melted almost overnight. Slowly, the animals returned to the forest and the earth thawed, young grass growing underfoot. Nobody mentioned Matt, nobody spoke to Will about his trip to the Wood and the meat he brought back. Nobody spoke to Will much at all, everyone seemed to avoid him. He was fine with that; Abby was company enough. He went hunting and foraging for fruit and mushrooms, while she cared for the garden. She hugged him when he got back from the forest and he was happy to feel her arms clutch him tightly with increasing strength. Sometimes, his eyes wandered by themselves, seeking the high treetops of the Wood. The stag was silent in his head, his scar never troubled him. Apparently, it wasn’t time to go yet.

One night a month later, he was dreaming of hunting in the forest, when the familiar scent hit him, blood, earth and lightning. Somehow, he knew it was no ordinary dream even before he heard steps behind him, heavy hooves threading through the underbrush. He was surprised though, when that soft voice rumbled, “Hello, Will Graham,” very much outside his head.

Will turned around slowly and met the fiery gaze of the stag.

“Hello. This isn’t really a dream, is it? You are really here?”

“This is your dream, and I am merely visiting. It is why you can hear my voice, this is all in your head.”

Will swallowed thickly and forced himself to ask the question he dreaded.

“Is it time yet? Have you come to collect?”

The stag shook his head; he seemed amused.

“I have not. I confess that I was curious how you were faring, you and your sister.”

Will blinked slowly, relieved that he was not expected in the Raven’s Wood. On the other time, he had a hard time wrapping his mind around the fact that the stag-god, to whom he had pledged his life, had come in his dream to enquire after his wellbeing.

“We are well; Abby is better now, the food is plentiful. Still, we would not have survived without the doe’s sacrifice.”

“It is good that you remember her; she was kind, and a devoted mother. She keeps on living through you.”

Will hadn’t considered the events in this light. While Abby was the most precious thing to him, he often remembered the doe with a pang of guilt. Somehow, the stag’s words dissipated some of it.

The stag asked, “Have you told anyone of what transpired in the Raven’s Wood?”

Will shook his head.

“Only Abby. She almost figured it out by herself. The others… well, they never spoke to me much, now they avoid me altogether.”

“They know where you have been; they can sense that you are marked and your sacrifice makes them uncomfortable. Humans are foolish in this respect.”

The stag stepped closer and lowered his head to nose at the scar through Will’s shirt. Will trembled but stood still, using their closeness to really look at the magnificent beast before him. And he was magnificent, the sleek fur merging into feathers, the giant antlers, the wild power he exuded. His hands itched and he curled them into fists.

“You can touch,” the stag said softly.

The temptation was too great, so Will raised his hands slowly and placed them on the creature’s neck in small increments until they settled, his fingers buried in the soft feathers. At such close quarters, the scent of the stag was overwhelming, but not unpleasant, as if his nose was buried in the forest undergrowth. Will inhaled deeply and slowly moved his hands, allowing himself to stroke lightly, smoothing down the feathers until he reached fur.

“You are a raven sometimes,” he murmured softly, caught in the magic of the moment.

“Yes, when I wish to fly I am a raven.”

“Can you become something else?” Will asked curiously, still touching, enjoying the contrast between feathers and fur.

The stag rumbled and stepped back from Will.

“As a matter of fact, I can. I have a form that will be easier for you to communicate with, though I have not assumed it in many years.”

Will stared in awe as the stag shimmered, antlers retreating, shrinking. Finally a heap of feathers and leather was left on the forest floor. Will had almost crouched down to examine it, when it unfolded slowly and he was left gaping at the sight, for before him stood a man. A man with blonde and silver hair, glittering garnet eyes and striking, ageless features. He was dressed in black leather breeches, a white shirt and a cloak covered in shiny black feathers. His smile was crooked as he looked down, examining his form.

“It has been indeed a long time since I have been _this_ , Will Graham. For your sake, I can keep appearing in this form. I believe you will find it less intimidating than the others.”

Will closed his mouth and tried to find his words.

“It is _you_ who is intimidating, not your form. And what do you mean, “keep appearing”?

“I have no plans to collect my debt very soon, Will. But you intrigue me, your mind is full of sharp edges. I would like to come like this, in your dreams, to talk. I have been alone for so very long in the Wood, only with my animals for company. I would enjoy the opportunity for some… conversation.”

Will kept staring, trying to process what he was being told. His death sentence was postponed for now. All he had to do was accept and entertain a visitor in his head.

The man apparently took his silence for hesitation and stepped back.

“I will take my leave now, you must wake soon. Think about it and call to me in your dream.” He crouched and the air took on the familiar shimmer when Will finally found his voice.

“Wait!” he cried out. “What should I call you?”

The man considered for a moment.

“Hannibal. You can call me Hannibal, Will Graham. Now go, wake up!” The shimmer intensified until a large raven flew up, cawing a farewell as Will was dragged back to wakefulness. He blinked slowly, staring at the ceiling, mindlessly rubbing his abdomen. “ _Hannibal_ …” 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one took a lot, in terms of both time and effort. The whole concept of the story grew and changed, and I needed to set up some things for later in this chapter, so I had to rewrite it a couple of times until I was happy with it. I'm still not sure I am 100% satisfied, but I promised myself to avoid the trap of perfectionism, the very reason I have so many WIPs languishing on my hard drive, which have never seen the light of day and probably never will.

Will was distracted on the next day, barely responding to Abby’s excited chatter. She was going on about their plan to visit the next village on market day in a fortnight and how she could buy linen for a new dress and Will only half-listened, nodding and staring off at the distance.

“Will… are you listening to me?”

He blinked and smiled distractedly at her.

“Sure, Abby.”

She was staring at him, blue eyes narrowed.

“No, you aren’t. What are you thinking about?”

Will sighed and decided to tell her outright.

“I had a visit last night from our mutual friend, the stag…”

Abby stood up abruptly, knocking back her chair.

“What? Did he come here? No, Will, please, you can’t go!” she flung herself in his lap and wrapped her thin arms around his neck, tears already rolling down her cheeks.

“Call down, Abby, no, he doesn’t want me to go yet… come on, stop crying and listen to me!” He hugged her tight, just like when she was a little girl and she would curl up in his lap, her head tucked under his chin. At thirteen, her legs were too long and she was too tall, but still she managed to make herself small enough to fit.

“He was in my dream… or I went someplace else in my head, I don’t know. He said he doesn’t plan to collect soon, Abby. He said he wants to… talk to me.”

Abby pulled back enough to look him in the eye, incredulous.

“To talk?”

“Yes, I know, it’s… weird. I think he’s lonely, you know.”

Abby blinked slowly, considering, until a giggle broke out.

“It figures he would be. I’m not sure how good a conversation rabbits can provide.”

Will giggled too and soon they were both laughing, Abby slipping down from his lap to the floor and holding on to his knees as they both gasped for air and tried to calm down.

Finally, she wiped her eyes and stood up. “Dear brother, you know how crazy this whole thing sounds, right? The wild stag-god wants you to keep him company, because he’s lonely. Does he know that you don’t talk much more than those rabbits?”

Will’s expression sobered and he reached out to stroke her cheek.

“If it means I can spend more time here with you, I can make the effort, little bird.” He didn’t want her to be upset, thinking how his days were numbered now and only Hannibal knew the number. So he shooed her out quickly with a hand on her back, “Go water the pumpkins now, let’s see how big you can grow them!”

Abby was right; Will had never been one to talk much. However, he just found most people were not interesting; it was easy for him so see through them and their little minds either bored or repulsed him.  Hannibal was something else altogether. Wild, terrifying, incomprehensible, and intense – yes, but Will could never imagine he could be boring. So despite his assertions to Abby, he thought that talking to him would not be that much of an effort.

***

That evening, having made up his mind, Will crawled into bed and closed his eyes; as he drifted off, he called out softly in his mind, “ _Hannibal_!”

 When he opened them, he was in a small wooden cabin. A merry fire was crackling in a small hearth; there was a narrow bed in one corner and a sturdy wooden table with two chairs right in front. Hannibal was sitting in one of them, carefully whittling a piece of wood. He looked up at Will and smiled. The feathered cloak was gone and the white shirt’s sleeves were rolled up. His eyes were still a disconcerting red color, but they didn’t glow and burn as usual. His hair was tied back and several strands have escaped their trapping, framing his face. Will blinked several times and offered a timid smile of his own. If he didn’t know exactly who stood before him, he never could have guessed.

Hannibal placed the knife and wood on the table and stood up.

“Welcome, Will. I believe this is the most human I can present myself,” he made sweeping gesture at himself and then the cabin.

Will felt strangely touched; he didn’t know yet what exactly Hannibal was, but he understood that he was as close as it gets to primal force of nature. Yet this… _being_ had made the effort to make himself look human, to create this human environment so that Will would be comfortable. A treacherous voice whispered in his head _“Calming the lamb before the slaughter…”,_ but Will shook it off.

“Thank you,” he said quietly and approached the table. „Is this a real house? I mean, does it exist somewhere or did you just imagine it?”

“A lone hermit came to my wood once. He was tired of people and asked for permission to live here, with the animals, under my protection. He didn’t seek to kill, he only wanted to be left in peace, so I let him. He built this cabin and lived in it until his last breath. It lies in ruins now, for it has been many years since he passed, but when he was alive, this is what it looked like.”

Will looked around the house again, with a new perspective.

“Was he your friend, this hermit?”

“I don’t know if friendship is a concept which applies to me. I used to come several times a year, when the seasons changed and my feathers wouldn’t settle and my antlers itched… I would take this form and visit him in this house, and have a cup of mead. Would you like some?”

Will blinked and there was a pitcher of mead on the table, with two cups. _This is a dream,_ he told himself, though he wasn’t sure Hannibal couldn’t do that in the real world. He imagined the stag wandering through the forest, restless, until he finally decided to seek companionship. Will took the pitcher carefully and poured mead into both cups. Then he pushed one towards Hannibal and took the other for himself. The mead was strong, spreading warmth through his chest and belly.

“What did you talk about, with that man? Did he tell you why he ran away from people?”

Hannibal inhaled deeply before taking a sip from his own cup.

“He ran because he was different; he was the odd one out, the freak.” Hannibal’s throat clicked on the final consonant, making Will wince. “He was a big man, but gentle. He would never hurt a living thing, but his people hated him because his mind was different and he saw too much.” Hannibal leaned closed to Will and captured his gaze, voice dropping lower, “Like your mind is different, Will, but you are so much more than him.”

Will shook his head and drew back with a frown, “There is nothing wrong with me.”

“Did I say anything about wrongness? I only said that your mind works differently; it fascinated me even the first time we met, it was so full of sharp edges and oubliettes. There is a particular manner in which you see people, no? Try to look at me now; try to see me.”

Reluctantly, Will stared Hannibal in the eye. Initially nothing happened, he felt like he was trying to climb a wall of obsidian, jet black and slippery as glass. Then Hannibal blinked once, slowly, and suddenly Will was gasping, drowning in the feeling of power, wild hooves beating through the undergrowth, warm blood in his mouth and underneath it all an ocean of sadness which made his eyes tear up and his heart clench in sympathy in his chest. Hannibal blinked again and it was gone, replaced with the black obsidian wall.

“Remarkable…”

Will was struggling for air, tears flowing down his cheeks, trying to disengage from the tidal wave of emotions which had slammed through him.

“What… what was that?” Will asked, despite knowing the answer.

“That, my boy, is what I am. _Who_ I am. I allowed you just a small glimpse but oh, how well you saw me.”

Hannibal leaned over the table and raised his hand, carefully wiping away Will’s tears.

“I did not mean to upset you so much… I may have underestimated the depth of your gift, Will. It is truly remarkable.”

Will trembled at the touch, still feeling the power coiled behind the deceptively normal exterior. For a moment, he had allowed himself to forget who he was dealing with. Still, he was not afraid of Hannibal; instead, his fascination grew with every encounter. He refilled his glass, gaining some time to collect himself, and decided to share a bit of family history.

“They say that my grandmother was a seer. I don’t know if it’s true or if it means anything. I don’t see the future, just too much of the present.”

“The gift of seeing can take many forms. It is not always passed on, and it can skip several generations. I have met seers of some renown, but they pale before you like candles to a raging bonfire.”

There was genuine admiration in Hannibal’s voice and Will flushed, ducking his head. Never in his life had he considered this a _gift_. It had always been more of a curse for him, a burden that he had to carry and doomed him to being mostly alone. To have someone not only accepted, but appreciated that part of him, was quite a novel feeling and he didn’t know what to do with it. So he fidgeted a little, trying to think of something to say. Hannibal seemed to see through him, as always, and saved him from trying to put his thoughts to words.

“I can see I have given you some food for thought. We don’t have to talk right now, though I appreciate the company.” Hannibal smiled, flashing his teeth, and continued whittling slowly. Will sipped his mead in the quiet of the cabin, taking the chance to observe. He could not tell Hannibal’s age, and anyway it was just his human form. He was probably much older than Will could wrap his mind around. His muscles shifted under the plain white shirt and he worked and Will’s eyes kept straying to the long, dexterous fingers carefully manipulating the knife. Why would a wild forest god know how to whittle?

“I can feel you staring,” Hannibal said with amusement, not taking his eyes off his work. Will flushed and mumbled an apology.

“I don’t mind. This is just a pastime I have not indulged in a very long time, as I have not felt the need of having human hands. I find it soothing. It is something my father taught me.”

Will looked up sharply.

“Your father?”

“Yes. But I am afraid this is a long story.”

Hannibal stood up and Will followed suit. He was reasonably sure that the time for him to go back and make good on his debt was yet to come, and still, he felt compelled to ask, “Is it time?” certain that Hannibal would know what he was talking about.

Hannibal smiled softly, “No, not yet. But it is time to wake up. Here, this is for your sister.” He handed over the small piece of wood. Will took it, shivering again as their fingers brushed, marveling how Hannibal’s hand was warm and rough, just like a normal human hand. He hadn’t really paid attention what Hannibal was making; it was a figurine of a rabbit sitting on its rump, completely lifelike. He smiled, imagining Abby’s delight and a bit sorry that it was only a dream and it was not a real gift he could bring her.

Hannibal just chuckled, as if reading his thoughts, “You’d be surprised. Go now, farewell, Will Graham.”

When Will woke up, it took him a while to get his bearings; he was not in the wooden cabin, he was I his house, in his own bed. It _had_ been a dream. That did not explain the small rabbit figurine clutched tightly in his fist.

***

Hannibal closed his eyes and the cabin disappeared, dissipating into the trees surrounding the clearing at the center of the Raven’s Wood. Dawn was breaking already and the birds chattered in the trees, announcing the new day. Instead of reverting to his stag or raven form immediately, he chose to roam the forest as he was, walking on two feet, moving branches aside with his hands. He found it easier to focus, thinking about his conversation with the boy. There was so much more to Will than his appearance suggested. To the ordinary eye, he looked like a normal young man, almost nondescript. Hannibal was everything but ordinary and he saw deeper than that. Will’s mind was fascinating, more than could be said of almost any other human he had encountered in countless years. They were all base, sniveling swine, filled with avarice and cruelty, caring for nothing but themselves. Hannibal felt no compassion for them as he gutted them and decorated the trees with their entrails. Will was like nothing he had seen before. The boy could _see_ , his mind sharp and merciless as he dissected the souls of his fellow humans and found them lacking, unworthy of his time. He did claim that people tended to avoid him, but Hannibal was certain that Will himself did a lot of avoiding. And there was a darkness brewing underneath that all, a primal force which made Hannibal tingle when he felt it through their link; it was delicious. Will was unique, and Hannibal found himself eagerly expecting their next conversation. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I dearly appreciate all kudos and comments. I'm always happy to hear your thoughts. You can find me on [tumblr](http://captainnightflyer.tumblr.com/)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took some time, but here I am with the next part. Please, heed the updated tags - the gore level escalates, plus the whole mood gets darker. I suck at tagging, so please tell me if I need to tag for something else in particular.

Next time, Will’s dream led him to a forest clearing. Hannibal was sitting on the ground with his eyes closed, cloak in place, feathers lightly rustling in the wind. As soon as Will looked at him, his eyes opened and he stood up in one fluid motion, the cloak flapping lightly like giant wings.

“I thought something different this time,” he said in lieu of greeting. “The cabin is a pleasant mindscape, but I am curious to see you in another setting.”

“The cabin feels more like home to me, while the forest is more like home to you. It’s only fair,” Will shrugged and approached slowly, observing the trees, trying to figure out where they were.

“It is the same forest you hunt in, only a lot younger. A memory, a reconstruction, if you will.”

“You seem to dwell on the past a lot.”

A dark look crossed Hannibal’s face and for a moment Will’s vision swam as he flickered between his human form and the stag and something more amorphous, darkness with teeth and claws.

“There are things in the past which should stay there. Still, this was a beautiful forest,” Hannibal smiled. “I see that you have stopped hobbling your sight, you see me so much more easily now.”

 It was true, since their talk Will had relaxed his control, but he felt the merits were dubious at best.

“With you, I see whatever you choose to show me. People, on the contrary, project too much and it pains me just as I remember, being deluged with their desires, with their little secrets and their…greed and lust and hate. I don’t like it, it tires me and my head hurts. I don’t really see what good it does.” Will knew that he sounded petulant, but in truth his… gift so far had brought him only pain and a general desire to avoid other human beings.

Hannibal seemed to disagree.

“You are good for more than reading humans, Will. Your gift is _so much_ more than that, but still it is tethered by fear. You are not bothered by their emotions so much, are you?  It is your own reaction, how you see your superiority over the mass of pigs at your feet, you see how worthless their lives are, how they are… less than you.”

He grasped Will’s shoulders and looked him in the eye. Will did his best to look back without flinching, staring at the red-tinted darkness, not quite human, but _other_.

“There is a beast coiled deep inside you, Will. I can feel it because it calls out to my own. You need to unchain that beast and let it guide you. Here, in the forest, it will take you to the best prey; it will help you whisper among the trees like the wind, to be one of the forest creatures. If you let yourself see the world as it is, you will have knowledge that you can use to your advantage. You will become a better predator.”

Will flinched at the words.

“I am not a predator!”

“Yes, you are. You hunt and kill for your food; is that not what a predator is? It is in your nature. You need to feed you and yours. In this way, you will better judge which animals are weaker and will be picked off regardless, and you can assume your natural place in the food chain. Let me show you!”

Hannibal’s words tugged at something deep in Will’s soul, and as much as he resented their implications, he could not deny they held a certain amount of truth.

“All right then; show me…”

***

Will gradually learned that letting go and using his sight in the forest was much more peaceful than around people. The simple feelings of the forest creatures did not distress him like those of his fellow human beings. His vision and mind both seemed sharper; between the time spent in his dreams at night and for real during the day, soon he felt very much like a forest creature himself. Every time, as their time to part drew near, Will asked if it was time yet, and every time Hannibal said no. Sometimes, Will wished they could stay in this limbo forever

On the outside, there was a subtle change to him. He was lighter on his feet, moving quietly as a shadow. He shied away from people even more than before, for their thought and feeling left him with an acrid aftertaste as ever. So he spent his days in the forest, enjoying his time with the trees and animals, hunting, respectful of every life he took. Almost all his nights were spent with Hannibal: in the simulacrum of the old hermit’s cabin, walking under the trees of the Raven’s Wood or other forests, memories conjured from Hannibal’s vast memory; sitting quietly with their feet dipped in the stream. He never got more than fleeting impressions and undercurrent from Hannibal; when he tried, he met the obsidian wall. He had never lost his composure and his control over his form as that time Will mentioned the past. Will remembered and did not raise the issue again.

***

One day Will came back from the forest to a commotion on the outskirts of the village. Everyone was gathered around an unfamiliar cart. There were two women sitting at the back, one was older, and the younger one held a sleeping baby. The man driving the cart was probably her husband, judging from the concerned looks he threw their way. The other three men were young, several years senior to Will, and each of them carried a bow, with various knives tucked in their belts.

Will slowly walked towards the gathered villagers, overhearing snippets of conversation.

“There was a flood earlier in spring; many people drowned, and now the fields have turned into marshes. We are looking for a better place. May we stay here tonight? We have travelled a long way and we are tired.”

Will could already see it; there were many empty houses in the village after the harsh winter. There was land enough to feed more people and the newcomers would stay, maybe bring more. He liked the man and his little family; they radiated only exhaustion and concern, and fierce love towards each other and the infant cradled in the woman’s arms. The other three, though, bothered him, and he was learning to trust his instinct.

Abby was there amongst the others, leaning over the side of the cart and cooing at the baby, who had woken up and was blinking sleepily. One of the men approached her and Will quickened his steps, pushing the other villagers aside.

“Well, hello. And who are you, little girl?” He stepped closer to her, their shoulders almost touching. Abby drew back a little, apparently offended.

“I’m Abby, and I’m not little!”

“Hmm… yes, you certainly aren’t.” The man’s eyes crawled slowly up and down her body and Will had to suppress a growl.

“Yes, she is! And who are _you_?” he snapped, standing next to his sister. The man peeled his eyes off Abby and looked at Will with a raised eyebrow. Will almost recoiled at the grimy, oily feeling that assaulted him as he allowed himself to look. Apparently his instincts had been right, and he wanted very much to wipe the leer off the other man’s face with his fist. Still, he could not explain or justify himself, after all, on the outside, the man had only been polite. The others didn’t know what hid behind his eyes. So the best Will could do was glare at him pointedly.

“No offence meant here,” the man said, raising his hands in defense with a mocking little smile. “Name’s Liam, I travel with this fine folk here.” He glanced at the rabbit hanging from Will’s belt. “Say, is hunting good around these parts? I haven’t had a chance to stretch my bow in a few days.”

Will was very reluctant to answer, but one of the other villagers piped in, “Yes, the forest to the south is full of game. Will here brings something every time.”

“That’s good to know. And what about the one to the north?”

The silence was deafening. Finally the same villager found his voice and answered curtly, “We don’t go there.”

“Why?”

“It belongs to the old gods. No hunter has come back alive from there.”

“Nobody?” Liam raised his eyebrows in disbelief and looked around the silent villagers.

“Almost nobody,” a new voice added. Matt’s mother was staring pointedly at Will, who swallowed in discomfort.

“Let’s go, Abby,” he pulled at his sister’s hand and she followed, radiating annoyance and confusion.

Abby was pretty mad at him when they reached their house.

“What the hell, Will? What has gotten into you?”

“Don’t curse,” Will admonished automatically. “I don’t like the way he was looking at you.”

“He barely glanced at me!” Abby threw her hands up in exasperation.

“Abby, listen to me! You know I… see things differently sometimes, right?”

She blinked in surprise and sat down.

“I know, but...  I thought you didn’t want to talk about that. You said you didn’t do it anymore.”

“It’s not always easy to switch off, Abby. And some people… project. Believe me, that man was projecting some very unpleasant things when he was looking at you…” He willed her desperately to understand, because he didn’t want to spell it out for her “…when he said you weren’t little.”

“Oh!” Abby gasped and shuddered, understanding dawning in her eyes. “Will, really? You aren’t making it up because they are strangers and you want me to stay away from them?”

“I wouldn’t make up something like this. And please, promise you will stay away, especially from him. I didn’t even look at the others, but I need you to be safe.”

She agreed readily, wrapping herself tighter in her shawl. Will didn’t like seeing her in such discomfort, but sooner or later she had to learn that not all men were nice.

He was restless for the rest of the day, tinkering around the house and not letting Abby out of his sight. Objectively, he knew that she was smart enough to watch out for herself after she’d been warned, but he couldn’t shake the memory of the man’s thoughts and he kept clenching his fists in futile anger.

_***_

_His hands were covered in blood. Warm and sticky, it ran between his fingers and up his wrists as he plunged the knife again and again, watching that hateful face twist in agony. In the dilated pupils he could see his own twisted image, contorted in a snarl he could barely recognize. He stuck the knife one last time, feeling the last of life and breath escape the body caught beneath his own and his reflection snarled, „Good…”_

“This is quite an interesting dream. Is there someone new in your life?”

Will gasped as the last tendrils of his dreamscape dissipated and he was left standing, with no dead bodies in sight, only Hannibal’s curious voice.

They were in the cabin again, fire ablaze, pitcher on the table. Hannibal was smiling, eyebrow raised, proffering a cup of mead as if he hadn’t just witnessed Will dream about viciously murdering a man. Will looked down at his hands, devoid of any bloodstains, and gingerly accepted the cup.

“How do you know that was someone in particular?”

“What I saw was too… personal not to be someone in particular.”

Will tersely recounted the encounter with the newcomers.

“You still call it a gift. I touched the mind of that horrible man and I felt all the depraved things he wanted to do to my little sister. And I am not being overprotective; he wasn’t just admiring a pretty girl. He knew how young and innocent she was, and he wanted to defile that. Now I feel like I have filth clinging to my soul!”

Hannibal sat down and regarded Will over his own cup.

“But wouldn’t you agree that you are only stronger for it? Now you know that you have to protect her from this man. You warned her, so she could protect herself. Is that not a sufficient reward?”

Will deflated; he couldn’t deny the truth in Hannibal’s words once again.

“I feel… dirty, Hannibal,” he whispered, distraught, collapsing in the other chair.

“Is it the feeling of his base desires making you feel that way, or your own desire to hurt him?”

After what Hannibal had witnessed, Will saw no point in denying.

“Both. I… don’t want to _want_ to hurt him. I thought I was better than that.”

 “You carry a gentle soul with a great capacity for violence. That makes you righteous and wicked at the same time, a quite unique combination, very rare.”

Hannibal stood up and circled behind Will, making the back of his neck prickle under the intense scrutiny.

“Sometimes people squander the precious gift of life that has been given unto them. They make themselves less than animals, for animals don’t hurt others except to feed themselves and their young. For such undeserving individuals, is it so bad to rip away the life they are wasting?”

Hannibal made it sound so simple, so… right.

“Are you trying to make me feel better about my dream or are you encouraging me to kill him for real?”

“The decision is yours, Will. I would like to rid you of any moral objections you might have.”

“I thought you wanted me to feel comfortable. That was the point of all… this.” Will gestured to the cabin and Hannibal’s own form. “This conversation does not make me feel that, at all.”

“I think I see you better than you see yourself, Will. Comfortable is boring. It was useful in the beginning, to get you to think of me like someone to talk to, not cower from.”

“I have never cowered from you, even when you walked towards me with my friend’s body impaled on your antlers. Not even when I pledged you my life and you sliced your mark into my body!”

“This is also true,” Hannibal responded softly, his eyes shining with…pride? “So if you don’t fear me, why would you fear yourself?”

That was a question to which Will had no real answer.

***

A couple of days later Will walked through the village with his bow slung over his shoulder, heading towards the forest. Abby was instructed to avoid the strangers, especially Liam; still, for his own peace of mind, he had handed her one of his smaller hunting knives and told her to use it if she needed to protect herself. She paled a little, but wordlessly took the knife and nodded.

Will planned to shoot another rabbit or two, the meat would make a good stew and the pelts would get him some money when they went to the market next time. He slowed his steps when he walked through the tree line, relaxing, feeling the forest thrum with life. He spotted some tracks right away and followed them silently, moving through the forest like a ghost. Focused on his prey, he almost missed the crack of a branch behind him. Something inside him screamed “ _DANGER_ ” and he leaped to the left, but not before searing pain lanced through his shoulder. He landed awkwardly and turned around, not surprised to see Liam and his two cohorts approach. They circled him slowly, like wolves surrounding their prey.

“Well, well, it seems that the rumors in you village are true, you do have eyes on your back.”

Will tried to sit up, but the pain in his shoulder stopped him short.

“Is that what they say? I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I heard you. I don’t know how you hunt with the racket you make.”

Liam snarled and kicked him in the ribs. The other two lingered behind Will and kept quiet. It was clear who the ringleader was.

“I heard some other interesting things. Everyone praised what a good hunter you are and how well you take care of that sweet little thing, your sister, and then admitted that you give them the creeps. Especially after someone let it slip that you went and came back from the other forest, after another boy got gored for his trouble. I wonder if there are really monsters, or you just killed him like the little freak you are!”

Liam drew closer, crouching but still outside Will’s range. He wondered if he could draw the knife from his belt quickly enough, but his shoulder hurt too much for him to try.

“Everyone thinks you are some kind of witch. We had a witch in our village once, do you want to know what happened to her?”

Will really didn’t want to know, but he was furious and it had always been more difficult to reign in his sight when he was upset. So he resigned himself and stared for a long moment at Liam. Then he blinked, trying not to throw up.

“Nobody knew you set that fire, did they? Did you feel like big men, burning alive an old woman and her animals?”

They stared at him in surprise, eyes suddenly frightened and unsure. Liam was the first to recover, aiming another kick at his side, which sent him prostrate on the forest floor. He blinked slowly. Maybe his head was woozy from the pain and blood loss, but he could swear the ground was trembling. Yes, the others sensed it too, and it was getting closer. A familiar hum started in Will’s mind, accompanied with the sound of thundering hooves. Will smiled again, spitting and flashing his bloody teeth at the men.

“Thinking I am a witch, knowing that I went and came back from the Raven’s wood unharmed… do you think it was wise to follow me and shoot me in the back like cowards?”

They stood petrified as the ground shook stronger and stronger, until the trees parted and with a leap the stag landed between Will and his assailants. Hannibal was glorious, taller than any real stag, his feathers ruffled, his eyes two burning coals. There was foam at his mouth and frankly, Will expected him to breathe fire any moment.

Will shivered at the quiet, icy fury emanating from Hannibal. He lowered his head and thundered _“HOW DARE YOU TOUCH WHAT IS MINE?”_ From their horrified faces, Will supposed that they could hear him too. They finally found their feet and tried to run, but they were no match for Hannibal’s wrath. In the blink of an eye, he was upon them trampling them with his giant hooves, heedless of their screams. Will distantly wondered if he should be repulsed by the gurgling and sounds of broken bones; he only felt vindicated. He was the one who sacrificed his life and saved their in the process. They had threatened him, threatened Abby. Suffering was all they deserved.

Liam was the only one left, backed against a tree, eyes rolling frantically and looking for a way to escape. Hannibal stood before him and stomped his hoof once, making him flinch.

_“This is the man you spoke of? I recognize his face from your dream.”_

“Yes.” Will confirmed, watching with fascination. Hannibal’s muzzle was almost touching Liam; he closed his eyes, whimpering and averting his face, but there was no escaping the voice in his head.

“ _You harm and threaten the innocent. You came here for someone who belongs to me; know that your life was forfeit the minute you started walking after him with murder in your heart. Go back now, to the earth which gave us all life, and beg that she is more merciful.”_

Hannibal lowered his head and slowly, cruelly impaled Liam on his antlers. When he finally stopped screaming and went limp, the stag withdrew and walked over to Will. Will looked up at the giant beast.

“Hey,” was all he could muster, dizzy from the pain.

The stag shimmered and was replaced by Hannibal’s human form, breathing heavily, eyes still burning.

“Let me tend to your wound.” The tone was brisk, but the hands which probed and tugged at his shoulder were gentle. Will hissed, trying to twist away, but the hands held him firmly. “Stay still, it will be over quickly.” Hannibal deftly snapped the arrow in two and pulled it from Will’s flesh with a sickening squelch. Will howled, blinded by the pain, but strong arms pulled him in and held him, a gentle voice humming in his ear, “Hush now, the worst is over.”

Hannibal pushed his ruined shirt aside and carefully touched the wound. He swiped through the blood trickling down Will’s chest and brought his fingers to his mouth. Watching his tongue as it cleaned off every last drop, Will’s breath grew short and heat pooled low in his stomach. Hannibal looked beautiful, wild and feral with blood smeared on his lips, Will’s blood. He opened his eyes; they were dark, pupils blown wide. Will squirmed a little, feeling how Hannibal’s thighs pinned him to the ground and flushing at the realization how intimately they were pressed together. Moreover, this was not a dream, Hannibal was actually _there_ , for the first time since that fateful day in the Raven’s Wood when Will’s life had changed forever.

“You taste as exquisite as I remember, Will.” Hannibal’s voice was a low rumble and his expression was hungry. Images flashed behind Will’s eyes of him leaning closer and that tongue licking at his wound, like the stag had soothed the cut on his stomach. The thought made him want simultaneously to squirm away and to press closer and he closed his eyes with a low moan, not knowing what to do with this feeling of wrong-right.

Hannibal’s hand settled against the wound, warm and rough. He started humming something low in his throat, something that made Will’s ears buzz and his vision swim. There were sharp pulling sensations in his shoulder, but no pain. He felt the vibrations through Hannibal’s chest and couldn’t help but burrow closer until the humming abruptly trailed off. He looked up and tried to move his arm. There were slight twinges, nothing more. He could not see the wound well, but he was certain that it was next to healed. Hannibal looked satisfied with the result.

 “Being beholden to me has its advantages, Will.”

“Nobody but you gets to kill me?”

“ _Yes_.” His eyes flashed and Will wisely remained quiet

Hannibal stood up and walked towards Liam’s crumpled body. He reached his hand into the gory mess and tugged. His hand came away bathed in blood, holding a heart, Liam’s heart. Will tried to look away, but he couldn’t. “I thought you wanted _me_ to kill him.”

“I merely encouraged you to follow your own urge. He was certainly deserving of this fate. I was quite happy to leave you to deal with him, until he decided to harm you. Then, his death was _mine_.” With these words, Hannibal brought the bloody heart to his lips and his wicked teeth flashed before ripping into the raw flesh. Will stared at the blood flowing freely down Hannibal’s chin and waited for the horror and revulsion that simply refused to set in.  

“Will you partake in the flesh of you enemy, Will Graham?” Hannibal proffered the dripping heart and Will shook his head, scared of how tempting it seemed suddenly, like it was his due.

Hannibal continued chewing, eyes smoldering. “You are not ready yet, I see.”

Will stood up gingerly and picked up his scattered weapons. This was different, after their usual meeting he would just wake up in his bed. Now he had to make his way back to the village on foot. His wound had closed and barely hurt anymore, but the blood loss made him weak and suddenly the walk seemed overwhelming and quite impossible. His knees wobbled, but before he fell, two strong arms steadied him. Hannibal has wiped off most of the blood off his face and was staring at Will with some concern.

“You can’t go back alone. I will carry you.” He shimmered right there and Will’s hands suddenly were leaning on the soft fur on the stag.

_“Climb on and hold tight.”_

Will didn’t even want to argue; he was so bone-weary all of a sudden that the broad back seemed very welcoming. Awkwardly he managed to haul himself up, sparing a last glance at the carnage in the clearing.

 _“Don’t concern yourself with carrion. I will take care of it. Hold on now.”_ Hannibal slowly walked through the trees and Will leaned forward, resting his cheek on the soft neck feathers, too tired to care. There would be explaining to do, but he could allow himself to rest and not think for a little longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My everlasting love to everyone who read, commented or left kudos! Come say hi on [tumblr](http://captainnightflyer.tumblr.com/)

**Author's Note:**

> Um... tell me what you think, maybe? Here or on [tumblr](http://captainnightflyer.tumblr.com/)


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